Healing Insanity
by Fluffy Darkness
Summary: When Allison is whisked away to Wonderland in order to help one of her mother's old friends, she finds that the stories her mother once told her only grazed the surface of this "new" Wonderland.
1. Chapter 1

**Ok, this is my first AIW fanfic, and I hope that it comes across as being a least a bit interesting. Reviews are my motivation to write more, and constructive criticism makes me a very happy little authoress.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alice in Wonderland. All credit and whatnot belongs to Lewis Carroll; I just manipulate his characters to do my bidding :)**

A young man hurriedly strode throught the marble corridors, his rushed footsteps muffled by the continuous red carpets. The sound of his name being called faintly reached his ears, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered right then, only that his feet keep moving. Every intake of breath was painful as his throat seemed to close off with distress. Finally, after what seemed to be a much too lengthy walk, he ignored every bit of his formal upbringing and pushed open a door that must always be knocked upon first, almost collapsing at the sight before him.

Standing in the doorway, knuckles white from clinging to the doorframe, he barely registered the footsteps coming from behind him. A gentle hand rested itself on his shoulder, but he didn't even have the strength to look at its owner; he was far too drained by the fright instilled within him. He could barely force his heavy lips to form a coherent phrase.

"You weren't kidding, were you," he whispered. It wasn't a question, but simply a statement that wished to be confirmed.

"I'm so sorry, Sir."

Dying...dying...dying. The word echoed throughout his head, filling him with utter despair. The chair behind the desk was empty, for the first time that he could remember. And instead, his father lied in bed. Feeling the numbness begin to dwindle away, he reached up and removed his top hat out of respect. Clutching it nervously in his trembling hands, he approached the bed, his feet made of lead. He hoped beyond hope that this was only a sick joke, that his father would sit up and and say, 'Got you,' smiling that mad smile of his.

But he didn't. His father simply turned his head to gaze up at him and he smiled painfully. "My son," he hoarsely whispered.

"What is it?" he asked. He couldn't bring himself to say, 'Why are you dying?' That would only cause him to break down, and become completely moonstruck.

"I...I don't know." He paused for several long moments. "No one does."

"Is there anything that can be done? A-anything that I can do?" He silently cursed himself as he heard his voice crack. This was no time to be weak.

At this, his father attempted to smile again. "Bring me Alice," he croaked.

His eyes widened, he heard the gasp behind him, and he took a step back. "Alice? But why?"

He watched as pain flooded into his father's eyes at his reaction. "If anyone can help me, than it is Alice. If she can't...then I may at least die a happy man with her by her side."

He gazed down at his father, and he could barely repress a giggle. Oh, this was not a comical sight, not in the least, but he always laughed when his insides were laced with sorrow. In order to halt the sensation , he closed his eyes and tightened his grip on his hat. He, along with the man behind him, knew of what had occured between his father and Alice, knew what he had done to her. Who could say that something similar would not occur? Yet, this might be his father's last wish. Could he deny him this final chance of happiness, the chance for closure? He realized that he could not.

Opening his eyes, he briefly nodded his head. He forced his top hat onto his head, causing his dusty black bangs to fall in front of his hard, emerald eyes. "Do not worry, Father. I shall bring her." With those words, he turned on his heel and headed for the door.

"Wait!" his father called, immediately seized by a fit of coughing with the exclamation. When the harsh barks subsided, he gingerly lifted a hand from beneath his heavy blankets and pointed towards a hat and coat rack that rested by the bedroom door. "Take it...take the card."

He froze, and looked at the figure still standing in the doorway to see that his own shocked expression was mirrored in the man's soft blue eyes. "W-why?" he questioned.

"For good luck."

Only half-hearing his father's response, he reached out and tenderly grasped a corner of the card that was tucked into the brim of his father's trademark top hat.

"When you're dealing with a girl like that, who knows _what_ could happen?" The slight tinge of humor in his father's voice only darkened his mood; he fought to supress a series of snickers, now tucking the card into the brim of his own hat.

"March shall escort you to the portal."

"Of course, Sir," came the soft reply. He glanced at his friend's son and noted that his eyes had become a lighter shade of green. Waiting until the young man had exited the room, he then hurriedly closed the bedroom door. Immediately, his ears were filled with the disturbing sound of the boy's woeful cackle, and he winced as he followed his retreating figure. Anyone who heard the cry would hopefully have enough sense to clear the hallways, for it was not wise to cross the Mad Hatter's son while he was laughing.

* * *

Alice Paige awoke screaming, encased in a cold sweat. No, no, no, she couldn't go back! Not after what happened! Tears immediately trickled from her wide eyes as she hugged her thin frame. After glancing around her room, _her_ room, it belonged to _her, _she remembered that she was safe. The plain white walls were supposed to keep out all of the awful people and creatures from Wonderland, but those monsters still slipped in through her dreams. So she sat up, tapping her fingers against her knees, determined to remain awake. Staring at the cold, white door, she shouted, "You won't find me, Hatter! Never again!" And then she suddenly began to laugh, her tiny giggles echoing around the room and keeping her company for the rest of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Awesome! One review already! If I get more this time, I shall be even happier!**

He examined his surroundings uncertainly, brushing off some dirt that had clung to his jacket when the portal rudely threw him to the ground. He was in standing in the midst of a wood, but far away he could just make out the shape of a house. Nodding in satisfaction, he disappeared in a puff of ashes only to stand beside the house a moment later. Peering through a window, he gasped at the sight before him. There she was, lying in her bed, her blond hair pooling around her head with streaks of blue and pink. Could this truly be her? No, according to his father, Alice had been hardly any older than the one he currently gazed upon, and his father had last seen her many years ago. But then...perhaps time did not function quite the same way as it did in Wonderland.

She began to stir, and the young man watched with interest, even pressing his face against the cold glass. Sitting up, she lazily opened her eyes to reveal two brilliant blue orbs. She stretched her arms with a sigh before standing and walking across the room towards a bookcase, where a stereo sat on an otherwise unused shelf.

His jaw hung open slightly as he studied her figure, eyes roaming up her long, porcelain legs to see black and purple plaid shorts covering her slender hips. A silk black tank top clung to her bosom, where he admittedly kept his eyes fixed a bit longer than necessary. Pink lips turned up in a smile as she turned the stereo on and the room was filled with Mindless Self Indulgence's "Straight to Video". He gasped as he recognized the song, and his eyes were filled with curiosity as the girl began to dance awkwardly to the music. Her body randomly twisted and turned to the beat with jerking sensations, and he found that he was unable to tear his eyes away, the display filling him with a sense of lustful awe. But all too soon, she stopped and lied down on her bed, closing her eyes and folding her arms behind her head.

He allowed the lingering remains of such an odd sensation to fade away so that he might act with a clear head. Smirking, he then disappeared and materialized in another shower of ashes by the bookcase. After turning the stereo off, he proceeded to vanish yet again.

The young woman opened her eyes just in time to see a darkly clad figure appear above her before he fell upon her in a straddling position. Something powdery fell into her hair and eyes as well. Immediately,a white-gloved hand was forced over her mouth. She blinked rapidly to clear away the dusty substance, only to find that the man's face was positioned right above hers, and a knife was pressed to her throat. She stared at his frighteningly pale face; sharp, green eyes, outlined in black, seemed to bore right into her, and his light gray lips were pursed in a minacious frown. All of this was framed by long, dusty, black hair.

"Do...not...scream. Do...not...struggle. Or I will...slit your throat." As if to confirm this statement, he pressed the knife against her neck harder, and she whimpered as the cold blade nearly began to draw blood. Her wide eyes began to flood with terrified tears, her body shaking beneath the man's presence.

"Are...you...Alice o-" He stopped as she began to frantically nod her head, and he pulled the knife away from her throat so as not to accidentally harm her. "Well then," he said, smirking. Before she could grasp any clear understanding of the situation, the gloved hand disappeared and a rag smothered her nose and mouth. Almost immediately, darkness obscured her vision and she succumbed to its chilling embrace.

Upon opening her eyes, she found that she was lying in a bed, wrists bound with rope to a decorative headboard composed of thin, twisted piping of different colors. At once, she noted that the room was extremely cold, and she shivered in her scant night clothes. Instinctively, she began to cry for help, screaming at the deaf walls. A door to her right, one that she had not noticed before, was flung open and her captor barged in, his blazing eyes accompanied by a snarling visage. When she failed to stop screaming, she was met with a stinging slap across the face. Quiet sobs soon replaced her frenzied cries, and she trembled with fear as the young man knelt beside her.

"Don't cry...p-please don't cry, Alice," he sadly beseeched, his voice emanating a gentleness that greatly contrasted against the harsh tone he had earlier questioned her with. At this, she stopped crying and looked at him curiously. "Miss Alice? Miss Liddell? Queen Alice? A-Angelic Alice?" He found it hard to say the last one, for they weren't his own words; they were his father's. "What shall I call you?"

She looked away, huffing angrily. "Well, to start, my name isn't Alice...it's Allison."

"What?" The shout of rage made her cringe. Suddenly, he grabbed her chin in an iron grip and forced her to look at him. His eyes were almost a golden color now. His fingertips felt positively hot against her freezing face. "You said that you are Alice! Alice of Earth!" He had gone through that entire ordeal only to bring back the wrong girl? Even _he_ could find no humor in that, and it took a great deal of willpower to stop himself from laughing in her face.

She racked her brains for a memory of him asking that, and recalled that she hadn't let him finish his question earlier. She'd automatically assumed that he was going to say 'Allison'.

"I-I didn't know that you were going to say 'of Earth'!" Tears fell from her eyes again. "I thought you were only saying my name...Allison..." The young man roughly released her chin and stood, beginning to pace back and forth across the room, hunched over with hands clasped behind his back. Allison was now able to get a good look at him, considering that she'd previously either been looking at his face or trying to avoid his gaze. While before he had been wearing an entire suit of black formal wear, he was now dressed in black slacks, white shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbows, a crimson vest, and black boots. The same black top hat was perched atop his head, and he was still wearing white gloves, the only difference being that these ones had had the fingertips cut off.

"Then it'd do you some good to learn not to interrupt others while they are speaking, wouldn't it?" he muttered, throwing her an annoyed glance. "Well, if _you're_ not Alice Lidell, then where is she?"

"My mother, she's in...in a madhouse," she said, whispered the last few words. She tried to keep the despondence out of her voice, but failed quite miserably. Her mother, her poor mother, had been taken away when Allison was only a small child. Supposedly her mother believed that some imaginary world existed, that she'd visited the place as a child, and that a man from the strange world was following her. She had believed her mother, for once or twice she was sure that she saw the shadow of a tall figure trailing behind her mother; sometimes at night she heard a low voice answer her mother's whispers, and then the voice would begin to shout, and the screaming would begin. When her mother hugged her and said that she was taking a little trip, Allison knew that she would never see her again. But before she let go of her mother for the last time, she had whispered in her ear, "I believe you, Mommy. He's not a very nice man." Her poor mother then began to cry hysterically as her father helped her into the car. Her mother had always been scared, jumping at the tiniest sound or movement, either whispering or crying, and Allison wanted her mother to be safe, so she didn't try to hold on when the time came to say goodbye. Instead, she wept into a pillow every night for several years following the incident. And soon, she came to believe that the voice she heard and the shadows she saw were only the products of the stories that her mother told her as a child, combined with the hope that she clung to that there was nothing wrong with her mother at all.

Immediately, he jerked upright and looked at her curiously. "You're...Alice's daughter?" And odd half-smile graced his features. "Of course! That would explain why you look so much like she did when she was your age." He then stopped pacing, as if he was contemplating something. "A madhouse, you say?" he questioned, as thought he had only just now registered this information. Obviously he had not caught the gloomy tone of Allison's voice, now did he notice her wince at the question. Cocking his head to the side, his smile widened into a full grin. "Well, why didn't she just come here? _Everyone_ here is mad." His eyes had by now cooled to their original dark green, and they glimmered with deranged glee.

His expression sent a shudder throughout her body. "And where exactly is 'here'?" she asked timidly.

He looked at her as though _she_ was the insane one. "Why, Wonderland, of course. Specifically, New Wonderland. But surely you must have know that, otherwise you wouldn't be here right now." Allison couldn't understand the meaning of his words, but the name he spoke sent something off in her head, something almost but not quite yet forgotten.

Suddenly he frowned. "You say that Alice is in a madhouse?" He began to pace once again. "Well, that won't do at all! If there's any hope of saving my father, then a quite sane Alice is required. Now she'd probably be no more of a help than that blasted Cheshire Cat!" Again, his words disturbed some dormant memories and sent them into a confusing shuffle. He froze and gasped, an idea hitting him so hard he almost doubled over. He then rushed to Allison's side, shaking her from her thoughts. "But you! You've obviously still got your marbles." He grasped her chin again, this time with gentle fingers, and inspected her face from all angles. She automically leaned into his hand, drawn to his warmth like a moth to light. "Yes, you'll do quite nicely. But..." he curled a few tendrils of her pink and blue hair around his long digits, "your hair needs cutting, and more practical coloring!" The smile of complete enthusiastic comprehension that he now wore unnerved Allison even more than his previous grin of madness had.

"My dear, there's so much to do!" He pulled something out of one of his boots; Allison soon recognized it to be the knife that had been held to her throat earlier. The awkward smile of curiosity that she wore melted from her face as a terrified grimace slithered up to take its place. He raised the blade above her head, and she screamed as he brought it back down.

**Like I said, reviews motivate me to write more and to post faster :) **


	3. Chapter 3

The ropes that previously bound her wrists now fell to the floor, frayed where they had been cut through. The young man gazed down at her, a perplexed expression on his face. "You're a very odd girl," he muttered. "I thought that you would've _wanted_ to be free." He watched as she sat up and gingerly rubbed her wrists, his eyes glancing over her thoroughly. He then grabbed her hand and started for the bedroom door, but she yanked free from his grasp and backed up next to the bed.

"Hold it!" she shouted, placing her hands on her hips. "You sneak into my bedroom with you dusty little poofing tricks-"

"Teleportation, it's called teleportation," he corrected.

"Whatever, you sneak into my bedroom, abduct me and take me to this," she gestured about the room, "this place! You hit me and-and _touch_ me, and start raving like a lunatic, and you have the _nerve_ to think that I'll come with you, no questions asked? Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Well, _I_ know perfectly well who I am. The true question is, do _you_ know who I am?" Noting the blank expression he received, he was convinced that she obviously did not know who he was. "No matter, no matter, your question is quite an easy one to answer, my dear, though a pointless one it may be." Removing his top hat, he bowed graciously before her. "I am myself, me, a Hatter, slightly less mad than the first mad one, but mad all the same. My father named me Dorian, " he looked up at her, "but you, my dear, may simply call me Hatter."

She raised an eyebrow at his over-the-top introduction as he stood up straight, noting that he was several inches taller than her. After several moments of silence, he looked at her expectantly.

"Well? Your name is...?"

"I-I already told you my name."

"Yes, but a proper introduction is not truly complete unless all parties involved announce their names."

Stiffly sticking out her hand, she muttered, "Allison." Expecting a handshake, she was thoroughly surprised when he gently grasped her hand, palm down, and bent to press his lips against her knuckles. At the warmth created, she felt an involuntary blush creep into her cheeks.

"A pleasure, my dear Allison." Releasing her hand, he placed his hat atop his head once more. She noticed a card, a price tag really, was tucked into the band of his top hat. The sight of the large **10/6** printed on the card caused her to start.

"That card...I've seen it before."

Tapping the card on his hat, he asked, "This one? A gift from my father, a good luck charm." He stopped, staring at her curiously. "Wait...you've seen this before? But how?"

A past nightmare flashed across her mind, but she hastily brushed it aside. "M-my mother loved to draw...odd pictures. She had a portfolio labeled..." _Wonderland! _"And there was a section called..." _Hatter! _"...pictures, mostly charcoal, of a man dressed like how you are...same card in his hat..." Every thought came to her more slowly as a strange realization enveloped her, and each word left her mouth even more sluggishly than the last. "You...you're the Mad Hatter's son, aren't you?"

"Took you long enough, considering that I _already told you that_," he sneered, crossing his arms.

Allison glared at him, exasperated with the smug expression he wore. "Why did you bring me here?" she snapped.

" I _meant_ to bring Alice, not her sniveling daughter."

"Well, why did you want to bring _her _here?"

He sighed rather sadly, appearing to age several years before her. Removing his top hat, he ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "My father...well he's dying," he blurted out quickly. "No one knows what is killing him. M-March tells me that its his broken heart." He let out a hollow laugh before taking a deep breath, concentrating on remaining calm. "He believes that Alice can save him. If she can't, then he would at least like to spend his last few moments with her. I...I couldn't refuse him!" He collapsed onto the bed, clutching his head as though he was in pain. She sat down beside him, her features laced with worry. Then he did something that she would never have predicted: he began to laugh. The sound was soft at first, but it soon crescendoed to the point where Alice questioned his mental stability. _What mental stability? He's already confessed that he's mad!_

"I-I know that w-we haven't always s-seen eye to eye, but I c-certainly don't want him d-dead!" he cried between bursts of laughter. Allison could do nothing but stare at him, fear beginning to settle deep in the pit of her stomach. And she noticed something odd, something that did nothing to soothe her agitated nerves. His eyes were slowly changing color, ranging through several shades of green, each one lighter than the last, into gold and yellows and going lighter still, until both eyes were completely white. He then grabbed one of her wrists and stared at her. "You! You will help me!" His voice had taken on a horrible tone filled with anger.

"W-what can I do?" she questioned, trembling with fear and confusion.

"You are the kin of Alice! Her blood runs through your veins! I doubt that you can save my father, but you can allow him to at least die in peace!"

"I don't understand!" she wailed, trying to tug free when he gripped her other wrist.

"Be your mother! Be Alice! Make him think that you are Alice!"

For a moment, she stopped struggling, completely dumfounded by the idea. Could she possibly be her mother? No, of course not! The thought was completely ludicrous. She cried out as his fingers dug into her arms and he shook her roughly.

"You need to help me! I-I'll kill you if your don't!"

"I'll help you!" she cried, terror seizing her every fiber. She did not find it hard to believe that he was capable of completing such an act.

"Promise me!"

"I promise!" And then he stopped. His rage was gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

"Truly? You'll help me?" His voice held such a hopeful tone that it felt as if someone completely different had taken his place. His eyes wet through a reverse sequence of colors, more quickly than before.

"Only because I suppose I don't have any other choice." She paused, looking down at her shaky hands.

He smiled wryly. She really didn't have a choice, not now, not after she had promised. Promises were regarded in this world with such honor that the queen had put a spell over the lands. If one was to make a promise and then proceed to break it, they would die on the spot; and if one attempted to leave Wonderland without fulfilling their promise, that poor soul would die as well. Of course, a certain wording of a promise or sly actions could sneak one around such a law; every rule had a loophole.There were several odd laws in Wonderland that were bound with magic, another one which dealt with death as well.

"Do you enjoy scaring people...and hurting them?" The question was voiced almost like an insult.

His expression fell, his eyes downcast. Timidly, he reached out to place a hand over her shaking ones. She flinched beneath his touch, only increasing the shame that he felt. "I...I don't mean to. I don't _enjoy_ going mad." A shudder ran through his body. "Did I hurt you?" His voice was drenched in quiet guilt, and Allison ignored the lingering pain in her arms.

"No, you didn't," she lied. "But if you threaten to kill someone, you obviously don't mind hurting them." She gazed up into his face to see him wince in reaction to her words. "I'm sorry, that came out wrong."

"No...it came out perfectly." He refused to look at her. He knew that he scared her; he frightened many people. Nowadays he didn't even have to try...it just happened.

"So...Dorian-"

"Hatter," he corrected, "I wish for you to call me Hatter." No one ever addressed him by his first name. Though, he had to admit, he was thoroughly pleased by the way the three syllables sounded as they rolled off her tongue.

"All right then. _Hatter_..." She couldn't understand why he wished to be called that. His first name had such a nice ring to it. _Dor-i-an._ She very much liked the sound of it as she repeated it in her head. "Please explain your crazy scheme to me."

He looked into her eyes, and an odd half-smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he began to tell her of his plan.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you to those who have reviewed. You comments make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside :)**

"I don't know..." Allison sighed, standing up and wrapping the blanket that Hatter had fetched for her around her shoulders. She walked towards a window, the only one in the room, whose maroon curtains were drawn. She ran her fingers down the crimson, velvet material. "I'm so different from my mother. How could I possibly be her?"

"I'll teach you." He had been raised by a man who loved nothing more than to talk of his beautiful Alice. Hatter was sure that he knew more about Alice than her own daughter did.

"But if he's even half as observant as you say, then the smallest slip could give me away." She grasped the edge of a curtain. "I mean, just drinking my tea the wrong way could set him off!"

"Impossible," he muttered as he clasped his hands in his lap, then unclasped them only to find that he preferred them clasped, and brought them back together.

Allison turned her head to look at him, a skeptic frown on her face. "Oh really?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "And why is that? Is there no incorrect way for one to drink tea in this world?"

"No, of course not. But people change over time, as do people's habits, mannerisms, and preferences in the way of drinking tea."

"Of course," she drawled sarcastically, "one must never forget one's ever-changing preferences in the way of drinking tea." Pulling away one of the curtains, she was shocked into a numb silence by the scene before her.

_Forests stretched away for miles in every direction, tall trees with curling leaves. In some places, the leaves were every color imaginable, even when it wasn't autumn, and the grass was checkered with different shades of green and purple._

Concrete buildings towered high, lining the streets in strict rows. Several stories below, the streets were paved with asphalt, upon which several horse-drawn carriages traveled.

_The sky was always a bright, lovely shade of blue. And if the sky was not clear, it was only because light pink clouds were riding gentle winds._

Smog filled the air, turning the sky a dull gray. Nothing could be seen above the buildings, as the thick filth hid everything from view.

"Wha...what is this place?" Gently pressing her fingertips against the cool glass, she glanced to her left to see that Hatter was standing beside her.

"The same as I told you before: Wonderland." She looked so puzzled by his response. "What? Did you think the building would grow legs and walk off to someplace else?"

She shook her head. "No, it's just that...this isn't the Wonderland that I remember from my mother's stories."

"Well, I also said that this is _New_ Wonderland, meaning that it's not the old one, it's not the original. Your mother's never seen this place before...at least not to my knowledge." Seeing her perplexed expression, he was tempted to continue in his explanation, but the chiming of a grandfather clock filled the room. He harshly closed the curtain and ran towards a desk on the other side of the room; he began to frantically open and slam the desk's drawers, searching for something of the utmost importance.

"Wasting so much time...need a list...objectives...where's paper when you need it?..._Blast it!_" He slammed the final drawer shut, looking quite cross, and reached across the desk's surface for a jar of ink and quill. "Now then!" he barked, whirling around to face his startled guest. "Tomorrow evening I must bring you to my father. We have until then, which is most definitely not a sufficient amount of time, to turn you into his Alice. Therefore, you shall be given the crash course...which I must first create!" He lifted one arm in front of his face; he then dipped the quill into the ink and held it above his arm, deep in thought.

"You obviously have some already existing knowledge of Wonderland, so all we need to do it refresh you memory." And here he began to hurriedly scrawl some words upon his pale skin. "And I must inform you on the status of my father's relationship with Alice, with details, of course." Again, he scribbled something down. "But first!" he yelled, staring at her with wide eyes. "Your hair is to be practically colored and you require new apparel!" Another word or two was written, and he flung the quill away without the slightest worry of where it landed. He disappeared, leaving Allison to stare at the pile of ashes on the crimson carpeting with awe. Only seconds later, he reappeared, holding a black trench coat and a cloak of a silvery shade. He thrust the cloak towards her, which she caught with a scream of surprise.

"Put it on," he commanded, shrugging into the coat. When she simply stood there, gazing at him like a dumb animal, he growled in annoyance. "What's the matter?"

"Where exactly are we going?"

"Into town, to get you a dress and some coloring for your ridiculous hair." His voice held much agitation, and Allison was afraid of angering him once again.

She slipped on the cloak and clasped it around her neck, shivering as the cool silk grazed her skin, feeling much like tiny water droplets were sliding down her arms and legs. Timidly, she asked, "You wouldn't happen to have anything that I could wear instead of these shorts, would you?" She looked down, noticing the gooseflesh rising on her legs again.

Studying her current choice of attire, he said, "You'll need nothing more than that for a fitting." Allison felt quite uncomfortable as his eyes continued to roam over her body. "Besides, I have nothing that would...suit your figure." His gaze stopped at her bare feet, and he cocked his head to the side as though he was pondering something. He then dropped to his knees and reached beneath the bed, feeling around with a blind hand. After several moments of this search, he stood, now holding a pair of black heels, which he quickly handed to Allison.

"Put those on. They're all I can offer you at the moment." Hurriedly, she slid the shoes on, immediately finding a strong distaste for them. The heels were much too high and her feet felt rather pinched. They seemed like the type of shoes that a prostitute would wear.

"Whose are they?" she inquired.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't remember her name. I can't recall if she even told me what it was." Without another word, he grabbed her hand and pulled her flush up against his body; Allison was about to protest, but her words were pushed down her throat, along with her tongue and entire mouth, while her stomach constricted and attempted to climb up the same passage. Her blood pounded in her ears and behind her eyes, which felt as though they were spinning in their sockets; this would explain why she had suddenly gone blind. Her lungs turned into liquid, and they sloshed about, and she had the horrible sensation that she was drowning in the empty black nothingness that pressed in on her from all sides, crushing her with each passing second.

And then it ended, and she was standing outside in an alley, both of Hatter's arms encircling her waist. Everything stopped so abruptly and jumped back into its rightful place all at once, and she couldn't take it after what had just occurred. She leaned over, still held up by Hatter, and proceeded to vomit onto the pavement.


End file.
